Our Hero, the Commando!
by Doomsdaydev
Summary: Dumped into a alternate dimension, the noble, dashing hero Axton must face his greatest challenge yet! Indeed, a challenge full of Action! Adventure! Violence! Manly Men! Beautiful Ladies! Truly, the exploits of this man - this Commando! - will become the stuff that legends are made from! ...or at least, that's what he tells himself.
1. Chapter 1

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* * *

This was stupid.

Nah, it was worse than stupid, it was _embarassing_. Here he was; Axton the dashing, roguish Commando, defender of Pandora against the legions of hideous monsters, cold, unfeeling machines and insanity of Handsome "But not as handsome as Axton" Jack. And what was this stalwart defender of the weak, innocent, and particularly beautiful women doing at this moment? What possible adventures could the hero, this man among men, be up to now?

It involved sitting on his ass in a dank corner somewhere in the galaxy.

"Good going, Axton." the Commando chided himself, "You get to make first contact with the first aliens anyone's ever seen, and you ended up being tied up in the brig of their spaceship. _Great_."

Axton went over how he got here once more time, just to make sure that this wasn't a dream or something. A cool dream, yeah, but cool dreams don't get the ladies. It wasn't like he could do anything else with his hands encased in some weird, blob-thing. It was the aliens' version of a handcuff, to be sure.

Oh, sure, it was exciting to _get_ here, no sweat. It involved two good-lookin' ladies with mystical powers! Who don't love that?

Alright, alright, there really wasn't that much of it that he had really been a part of. Maya had been getting some training from Lilith on using her Siren powers. The day's lesson was on teleportation. Now, Axton wasn't about to claim he understood how those powers worked, but he did at least get the impression that you had to concentrate a lot on what you were trying to do. He never did get around to asking Maya how they worked - _Probably never will, now_ – but, the point was that Lilith had Maya trying to move things from point A to point B with her mystic, magical, weird-ass Eridium-infused powers.

It was at this point that the senior Siren thought Maya was ready for a human test.

Now as exciting as getting somewhere without a wait time might be to some people, fact was that it wasn't exactly heartening to be told in no uncertain terms that you're a lab rat; as expected, the waiting list for that position was shorter than a loot midget. So, Axton, naturally, put himself forward for the position to look better than his teammates – I mean, to extend a hand to the two lovely ladies in need. After all, he had _complete_ confidence in Maya, of course, so there was nothing to worry about, right?

Wrong.

So apparently she hadn't gotten everything down at "Being a Siren 101". Now, to give her some credit, Axton was sure that trying to teleport a person without killing them would be a very commendable feat of skill, but he couldn't help but feel a_ little _bit disappointed by not showing up ten feet away from where he was before. No, no, he understood, it was totally cool, yeah.

Still a little disappointed, just sayin'.

He did go somewhere, not to say he didn't; he just didn't end up where they told him they would be. Instead of going from the balcony of the house the Vault Hunters shared in Sanctuary to the ground below, he went to… some dark, cramped place. Joy. After a few moments of realization that he was in a supply closet, he stumbled out of a door that yielded to a fumbling gesture of a handprint to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Apparently his arrival had not gone unnoticed. Now, at this point Axton's Dahl military training should have taken over, telling him the best way to disarm the enemy from an unarmed stance. It should have given him the indications on whether the enemy was angry, scared, or confused, and if violence was inevitable. It should have done this, but it didn't.

Because at the other end of the gun was an honest-to-god, no-foolin', I-ain't-kiddin'-you-believe-me _alien_.

Axton was understandably caught off guard.

"What the hell!?"

The alien's retort, if it could be called one, was some combination a bunch of clicks and hisses in rapid succession. Axton, being of sound mind and body, completely and unabatedly was not paying attention and followed up on his earlier interjection with:

"Holy crap, an alien!"

The alien repeated itself with a different combination of clicks and hisses. Axton took a wild guess that it was saying something in its own language. _Alright, alright, play it cool, Axton. Meeting an alien, yeah, you've done tougher stuff. So, uh, first contact, right. Think, think! Um, first step in an unfamiliar environment is to… greet the locals?_

"H-Hello! My name is Axton, and I am a Human!" the Commando said after a moment's hesitation. The gun didn't move, so Axton took a moment to get a proper look at the alien. Normally, he would be more confident in his movements, what with murdering a large chunk of Pandora's bandit population setting a bit of an example of what he could do; that, and being the generally all-around awesome guy that he is. However, Axton wasn't about to take a chance with a gun that he knew nothing about. It looked short, like a pistol, but for all he knew it could shoot laser beams, or maybe it could completely ignore shields like Handsome Jack's pistol, or something even worse! Play the diplomat now, take the wound to gut preferably never. As for the alien, it was a tall, lanky thing, with a long, thin face that was dominated by a set of large, black eyes. The thing had horns on the top of its head, with a skin tone that reminded him of a lizard of some kind. Axton's observation was interrupted by the alien speaking again, but this time it spoke in a manner that for some reason made him feel like he was being made fun of.

"Listen, buddy, I don't know who you think you are, but I got no idea what's going on here. If you can understand me, which I doubt, can you please point to something that speaks human? Or something, I don't know, some kinda translator or something? Aliens always have something like that, right?"

The alien responded to his request by hissing into a tool of some kind on its arm, still keeping its weapon pointed at Axton. Shortly after, a second alien showed up holding the weird blob-shaped handcuffs. As one can presumably guess, the action that followed was Axton unceremoniously getting handcuffed, shoved back into the supply closet and locked into the room.

And this, friends, is what brought our hero, Axton the Commando, to sit on his ass in a dank corner somewhere in the galaxy.

_Just __**great**__._

* * *

Axton's self-loathing monologue was cut short by a small jarring motion of the room. Without a moment to contemplate, the door slid open to reveal the alien with the gun. This time, it wasn't pointing the weapon at him, as it sat holstered in the alien's belt. The alien spoke again to him, in a few short clicks. When Axton stared dumbfounded back at the alien, it shook its head and made a "come hither" motion with its free hand. _They got three fingers. Huh. If he's telling me to follow, that's a surprisingly… human… gesture._ Axton took a few tentative moments to stand up, partly out of not wanting to piss off the thing with the gun, partly out of difficulty of standing up with his hands behind his back. When he was standing at full height, the alien stood to the side as if to allow him to pass. Evidently the thing wanted Axton to leave the room. _Alright, let's just see where this goes. It's been a while since anything I met was **not** interested in killing me, but if things go sour I'll have to make a break for it. No sweat…_

Axton carefully stepped out of the door of the supply closet / impromptu brig and took a look around. He was in a passageway of some sort, with a feeling of crampedness. Wherever he was, the builders either loved to economize or they were forced to build really small. He didn't get much more of a chance to think about it as the alien prodded him to move down the hall. The Commando passed by a few more doors identical to the one he had emerged from, and then was stopped at the one door that looked different from the rest. Having been with the Dahl military for ten years, Axton knew what he was looking at: the portside hatch. He was being told to get off the ship. Whether or not the ship was currently docked somewhere was something that he didn't know.

"Uh, buddy, you want me to leave? I just got here!"

His protest went unheeded as the alien opened the outer bulkhead. A small sigh of relief escaped Axton; the thing wasn't trying to space him, at least. The sigh quickly cut off as he saw what was outside the door.

He was in a space station. Currently, he was in a port on the space station. He was able to surmise that fact from all the various spaceships that were docked in front of him, the multitude of cargo containers to his right, and the massive blue plasma-y force wall that was keeping out the cold, empty vacuum of space on his left. The fact itself wasn't anything too surprising, he'd been on many space stations before; however, those space stations didn't have a _zoo's worth of aliens_ walking around in them. Axton's eyes boggled at the sight: some more of those tall aliens could be seen, but there were _others_! Some kinda things that had a face like a bird walking on two feet, short little metal things waddling around, and a… a… No. It couldn't be. The wishes of countless nerds couldn't possibly be true. But it was.

Blue alien space babes.

_Awesome_.

"Nevermind, see ya, gotta go meet a guy about a thing," came Axton's hurried recant. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Of course, had he been paying attention he would have seen the two bird-aliens standing in front of him. Both of them were wearing some kind of armor suit with the same markings; it was obvious that these ones were special, or in the same group at least. One of them started to squawk something to the lizard alien behind him, with the lizard alien responding back in its own hisses and clicks. Yanked out of his pleasant daydream, Axton was left standing between the three, wondering exactly was being said. _Apparently these guys can talk to each other just fine, _the man thought to himself. That, along with other thoughts such as _Goddamn it Maya, what did you get me into _and _I really wish I wasn't handcuffed right now 'cause my nose itches real bad_. After about a minute of playing the 'leave the human in the dark' game, Axton piped up with: "Ya know, I kinda wish I knew what you guys were saying." Apparently his babble wasn't being as ignored as he thought it was, since it caused the talking bird-alien to immediately stop squawking. "Wait, damn, can you guys understand me?" The previously unspeaking bird-alien gave him a nod, which simultaneously answered his question and gave him the new query of how the hell an alien knew how to nod.

Resuming their conversation and following a few more squawks, clicks, and hisses, it seemed like the aliens had reached the end of their conversation. Both of the bird-aliens, which Axton started to refer to as "Squawky" and "Quiety", motioned for him to walk between each other. Apparently they were going to lead him somewhere; Axton didn't miss the sight of weapons similar to that of the lizard alien in their holsters, so no doubt that this wasn't a request. "Alright, alright, I get it, you guys are taking me somewhere. Lead on, bird-man!"

Also apparently, they don't like getting called 'bird-man', because the shove in the back Axton received gave off a slight, ever-so-tiny indication that Squawky and Quiety were pissed off. _Ow. Whoops. Note to self, don't call them that._

After a few tense minutes of getting led deeper into the station and receiving quick glances from everything and anything that had a pair of eyes or some sort of visual sense, Axton was shown to some sort of corner office building. When he stepped inside, he could see more aliens wearing armor with similar markings to his captors. Most of them were more bird-aliens, but he saw a few lizard-aliens and one or two of those blue space babes as well. Some of the aliens gave him a short glance before returning to whatever they were doing before, while others had completely ignored him. He was about to ponder why that was when Squawky suddenly stopped in front of him, to his surprise. Pointing at the open doorframe beside Axton, the alien gestured for him to enter. Stealing a quick glance, the Commando raised an eyebrow to what he saw: A simple room with a single table, a chair, and a large rectangular sheet of what appeared to be a mirror on the wall. All of this pointed to one thought in the man's mind:

_Did I just get picked up by the alien police?_

Nevertheless, he entered the room as instructed, the door closing and locking behind him. He'd rather not make an enemy out of the security force from the get-go, if he could help it. Sitting down in the chair, which was quite difficult with his hands still behind his back, he was just about to make himself comfortable when the door opened again and his jaw hit the floor; into the room walked a man. A human being. A large, burly man with an older face that said 'I'd rather not be here right now' with a side of 'I have more important things to do so don't waste my time' and a small seasoning of 'general displeasure'.

"Son," the man spoke, "you've got some explaining to do."

* * *

_Five minutes earlier…_

"Officer Lantio, report. What do you have this time?"

"We received the call at approximately 5:73 from one 'Kirak', a Salarian. He requested a customs agent to greet him upon landing to deal with a stowaway on his ship. Kirak had stated that he and his copilot were able to restrain the suspect. Both of the ship pilots stated that they'd never seen him before in their lives. The guy probably thought he could get a free ride to the Citadel by hiding in the cargo. The stowaway seemed eager to get somewhere, said he had to, quote: 'meet a guy about a thing'."

"That's a human joke, Lantio. It's a way of saying he wanted to leave."

"Ah, sorry sir. I'm still learning these expressions of yours. I swear, your kind has millions of them."

"It's alright, rookie. Now, continue with your report."

"Yes, sir. The suspect reportedly identified himself to the ship's pilot as "Axton" and a "Human". I was told that the stowaway had previously expressed shock when he saw that the pilot was Salarian. When he was transferred to our custody, he couldn't stop gawking at everything. It's like he's never seen a non-human before."

"He might not have. There are some places that have a completely human population; it's not unfeasible for him to never have seen an alien. But anyway, what did he say in his defense when you questioned him?"

"We weren't able to, sir."

"Weren't able to? Why?"

"He couldn't understand us. Or at least, he's pretending not to. I didn't see an omnitool on him; he might not have any translational software."

"Fantastic. A stowaway we can't even talk to. Alright, bring him in."

"Understood, sir."

Sergeant Hawthorne ended the call and leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to gaze at the wonderful office scenery of three and a half cubicle walls. In the older man's opinion, it was far too early in the day for this; he hadn't even had his customary three cups of coffee yet. His thoughts turned from idle daydreams back to the task at hand. What kind of person was this guy? There weren't many people nowadays who didn't have either the implants or at least an omnitool loaded with translation software on them at all times. Was he really that poor? Or was he playing the fool? Either way, he couldn't just leave this vagrant to wander. Hawthorne needed some answers. That meant he'd have to grab a basic translator package from the supply room before he could even start the questioning; unfortunately, grabbing something from the supply room meant paperwork. In triplicate.

"Fantastic."

* * *

"Son," the man spoke, "you've got some explaining to do."

Axton couldn't contain the shock on his face. There was another human on this station? Was this guy the only other one? At least he had found the guy; he hadn't seen a single human since he got there. Well, the blue space babes looked kinda like humans, but whatever. More importantly, it was the first thing he could actually understand around here.

"Hey! You speak English!" exclaimed the ex-soldier excitedly. The other man blinked in surprise before regaining his composure.

"Yes, I do. Luckily, you've just made this job a hell of a lot easier. Now I don't have to spend half an hour's time trying to get you to put this on." He placed the small chip containing the translator omnitool onto the table.

"What's that supposed to be?" That line gave the older man pause for a few moments.

"It's an omnitool. Haven't you seen one of these things before?"

"Nah, ain't seen nothing like that before, man. What's it do?" Axton got a very hard stare for that question.

"Well," the other man began after pausing, "it'll let you talk to the aliens, for starters".

"Awesome! Pass it over, I'll… Oh, yeah. Kinda tied up at the moment, right."

"Ah, that's right. Those were from the pilot, weren't they? Those can come off, so long as you promise not to try anything funny."

"Okay, I promise." The fact that all of his gear was digitized into the Storage Deck Unit on his waist certainly helped make that promise seem believable.

"Good." It took the man only a few seconds to remove the bindings from Axton's wrists. Apparently the civilian model was the "easy-on, easy-off" variety. After rejoicing for a few seconds in his ability to once again move his hands and fingers, the Commando reached across the table to grab the chip.

"So how do I use this thing?"

"I'll explain later. For now, let's get down to business. My name is Sergeant Hawthorne, from Citadel Security, Customs Division. Do you know why you're here, son?"

"Not a clue. Not even sure where 'here' is, actually. Ah, right, my name is Axton."

"You're on the Citadel, the hub of all galactic life. Its population is comprised of many different species from across the stars."

"Sounds cool! Which galaxy is this?"

Axton didn't think someone could stare as hard as Sergeant Hawthorne was doing right now.

"The… Milky Way Galaxy, of course. Are you feeling alright, son?"

What.

Axton had been to the Milky Way a few times in his life with the Dahl military and there were _never_ any blue alien space babes hanging around there before. Or any other aliens for that matter. He should know, he checked.

"Er, nothing. I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure? Because being asked what galaxy you're in is not a normal question."

"Why not? Buddy, I got myself teleported to god knows where. It could have been any of the six galaxies I ended up in!"

Sergeant Hawthorne was silent for a few moments.

"Are you on drugs right now, son?"

"What? No! Humanity has spread across six galaxies! Everyone knows that! I should be asking _you_ if _you're _on drugs!"

A look of displeasure was spreading across the sergeant's face like bullet casings from a Vladof assault rifle; quickly, and in large quantity. Evidently the man didn't like to be yelled at by the people he was detaining, especially not first thing in the morning.

"Now you listen here, son! Ask anyone on this station if _anything_ has left this galaxy, and they'll tell you the same god-damn thing I'm telling you now! I don't know what _fantasy_ you think you're living in, but some of us have to live in _reality_! Since you're obviously in no state to be talking any sense, you get to park your backside in our cozy little one-roomer until whatever the hell it is you're on gets outta your system!"

"What?! Hey, I told you I'm fine! Just gimme the magical space computer and I'll get outta here!"

"Quiet! Just for that the cuffs go back on!"

"Oh, come-on, seriously!?"

Whoops.


	2. Chapter 2

Sergeant Hawthorne sat down at his cubicle's terminal and thought about his job. Working customs in C-Sec certainly wasn't the most exciting thing to be sure, but it was an important and necessary service required for the Citadel to be able to function. Being able to police what went into and out of the most important hub of life in the galaxy was crucial to maintaining the peace.

Right now, that peace was demanding that Sergeant Hawthorne keep the delusional, oddly dressed man in the holding cell from screwing something up.

That task was proving difficult, however. It had been nearly a day since this "Axton" fellow was brought in, and Hawthorne was nearing his wit's end. It was obvious that "Axton" wasn't registered for travel to the Citadel; a search of the database brought no travel documents that matched his name, meaning that the man was clearly here illegally. Standard procedure was to issue a fine and deport the man back to wherever he came from. Doing so, however, required the knowledge of _where in the goddamn galaxy he came from._

Hawthorne was exasperated. This "Axton" was a complete mystery. There were _no_ documents that matched his name and profile, which in this day and age was impossible. Anyone traveling through interstellar space had to leave _some_ kind of digital footprint, no matter how small, but this man was completely off the grid. Standard procedure was not designed for people who apparently materialize into existence mid-flight, but it was still his job to deal with it.

The customs agent began to mull over the possibilities. The likelihood that "Axton" was a criminal was high, but there was no damning evidence that he could arrest him for. Without it, Hawthorne would be forced to release the man when the detainment period ended; for some reason, that sounded like a _really_ bad idea to him. He was about to contact his superiors when the answer to his dilemma walked through the door.

"Sergeant Hawthorne?" a voice asked unexpectedly. Glancing up from his terminal, he saw a man wearing the attire of a detective. Average height, black hair, and unremarkable facial features save for a small mole on his left cheek. Hawthorne didn't know him, but then again, there were a lot of people he hadn't met.

"Over here, detective. Whaddya need?"

"Detective O'Hara, a pleasure. I'm here to pick up the stowaway. I have the orders right here." At that, the man brought out his omnitool and transferred the documents to Hawthorne's terminal. He browsed through it; sure enough, it was a form for the transfer of "Axton" to a more secure holding facility, with his superior's signature right on the dotted line. If he had checked, records would confirm that the order was signed from his superior's desk shortly before Detective O'Hara arrived.

"Alright, the order checks out. It makes my job a hell of a lot easier, too. So, what do you want this guy for, anyway? I can't find a damn thing on him."

"Let's just say that he's someone who we've been looking for. Nice job finding him, Sergeant; we'll take it from here."

* * *

Axton was gettin' real tired of all these handcuffs.

First it was a spaceship, and then it was a space station, now it was a police station. There was no end to the number of places where he could be held against his will! Currently, he was being held in what looked like a jail cell, only less iron bars and more alien dudes inside it. Also, the handcuffs actually looked like handcuffs. At least this time he got a cool computer thing to wear on his arm. After getting the "omnitool" configured, the squawks, clicks, and hisses of his fellow detainees became actual words that he could understand! Indeed, a marvel of communication technology! What possible sage advice could these aliens have to say?

"You got some weird clothes, human! Did you miss a costume party?"

It was truly, truly worth it.

"Axton," said the familiar voice of the only other human he'd met, "get up. It's time for you to go."

"Ah, finally! I told you guys I didn't do anything. Don't worry; I won't hold it against-"

"We're not letting you go," a second voice interrupted. Axton turned to his surprise; yet another human was here! Apparently his kind wasn't as rare as he thought.

Oh, wait a minute; he said something about no freedom. Right.

"Waddya mean you aren't letting me go? I didn't do anything!"

"Not according to C-Sec, you haven't. I'm here to transfer you to a more secure facility."

Axton took a moment to think about how best to describe his displeasure at the current turn of events.

"This sucks!"

* * *

So now he could add another item into the ever-growing list of 'places Axton has been handcuffed in': the backseat of a flying car! Granted, it was a lot more comfortable than Scooter's rides had ever been, but handcuffs were handcuffs and handcuffs sucked.

"So, detective, what am I in for?" The ex-soldier sarcastically questioned.

"Nothing," the detective replied without turning his head from the oncoming air-traffic. It certainly was not the answer that Axton expected. Well, he didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't this.

"Uh, excuse me? Then what the hell was that whole song and dance back there, detective?"

"I'm not a detective. Please, call me Samson." The driver reached back and handed him a small key, slipping it through the divider between the front and backseats. Axton hurriedly unlocked the handcuffs, eager to regain motor control of his wrists.

"Thanks, pal. Wait, what?"

"I'm an agent for… a certain organization. When you got brought in, you showed up on our radar. What we found out about you, or rather what we didn't, intrigued us. There aren't many people in the galaxy that have absolutely no documentation."

"Well, there aren't many people like me," Axton boasted.

"Indeed. This is why we wish to extend to you an offer to work for us."

"You got a pretty weird interview process, buddy."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied 'Samson', without missing a beat.

"I'll think about it. So where are you taking me?"

"One of our safehouses. It can provide you with food and shelter for the time being if you wish. Or, you can leave and never look back. It's your choice." Samson's voice carried a tinge of smugness; he knew exactly how preferable his option looked.

"Alright, wiseguy. I have only one question."

"Which is?"

"Where is the nearest gun store?"

* * *

"Trash."

"Trash."

"Even _more_ trash."

These descriptions of quality were currently emanating from the human customer standing in front of the merchandise kiosk of "Coster Campamius' Quality Munitions". The customer, of course, was Axton; the turian proprietor behind the counter, Coster Campamius. Both of them were slowly becoming more unhappy as time went on; the former at what he was seeing, the latter at what he was hearing. When 'Samson' dropped him off in front of the store, leaving behind directions to the safehouse, Axton was positively giddy. A chance to get some alien weapons? Awesome!

Or it would be, if the guns weren't pieces of crap.

At least his Dahl Heads Up Display was able to tell him what the gun's stats were. It seemed that if it could fire a bullet, it had stats. Or something. Hell, it could tell him what the stats were for Eridian weaponry that was made by aliens ten bazillion years ago. Axton chose to stop thinking about it and just enjoy the feeling of finding something with a lot of really big numbers.

This, again, was something he would do if the guns weren't pieces of crap.

"Come on, man! Don't you have anything better than this?"

"Human, I'll have you know I only sell the finest in personal defense weaponry!" the shopkeeper indignantly rebutted.

"Uh, yeah, right. Ya see, you're tellin' me that you sell the best, but all I see here are white guns."

"How does the color of the gun have anything to do with it?!"

"Do you have any E-Tech guns? Aliens are good with that stuff, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about but I nonetheless feel offended at that remark!"

"Seriously!" Axton just wanted to buy stuff that kills things. Specifically, a lot of stuff that kills a lot of things. Was that so much to ask for? "Alright, I'll make this simple: Show me the biggest, baddest gun you got here. Money is no object."

The turian paused, and looked around for a few moments. Nobody else was in the store, and it was quiet out in front of the shop. "Wait here," he muttered, before disappearing into the backroom. A few moments later, he arrived back at the counter with a large case in his hands. Gingerly placing it onto the counter, the shopkeeper quickly opened the case. Axton felt a small feeling of the exhilaration he got whenever he opened a loot container, only with less dead bodies lying around nearby.

"I present to you, the Jormangund Mk. III Torrent Assault Rifle. This gun can fire-" Axton tuned the alien out, instead checking the stats for himself. The gun was certainly better than anything else in the store. It was a green.

Yup. Just a green. Well, it was a start.

"Alright," Axton said with a sigh, "I'll take it, I guess. You accept cash, right?" He held out some in his hand.

Coster Campamius stared at the man who was trying to buy a gun using raggedy bits of paper with a red and white "$" symbol on them.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STORE!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, this ain't good._ This was what Axton thought as he walked aimlessly through corridor after corridor. After being told to remove himself from the premises of the gun store, the commando decided to take a walk around and stretch his legs. It was a part of the soldier lifestyle, after all: Join the military, travel to foreign lands, meet exotic people, and kill them. He had certainly accomplished that in his ten years, to say the least. Mostly items three and four, but still.

Turning his mind to the situation at hand, Axton thought about what could be done. _So, all the money I have is worthless here, huh? _Money had never been a problem when he was on Pandora. Most of the time he didn't even use it, too caught up in his revenge quest against Handsome Jack. Mostly it just accumulated gradually after selling all the unused guns he picked up in various places, such as bandits, Hyperion personnel, carnivorous wildlife, robot death machines, random containers of loot, and assorted piles of excrement from said wildlife. He always found that last part funny; let it always be said about Pandora, the planet literally craps out guns.

A smile crossed his face at the humorous thought. So, now what would he do? Unlike Pandora, this place had no city of grateful inhabitants that would feed and clothe him. He would have to find work. All he had was the clothes on his back, the gun at his side, a bunch more guns in his SDU, his shields, his turret, a job offer from a shady organization, and no idea where he was.

Yep, just like Pandora all over again.

"Did you bring it?"

The sound of someone speaking brought him back to reality. The distinctive flanging of the voice to him it belonged to one of those bird-aliens; 'Turians', he remembered them being called. Axton quickly looked for where it was coming from and realized it was around the corner of the tight corridor he was in. Whoever it was, they weren't talking to him. He decided to stay out of sight, for now; in his experience, whoever asks 'Did you bring it?' is generally not going to enjoy unexpected company.

"Where's the Shadow Broker? Where's Fist?"

This time came a female-sounding voice. Intrigued, Axton peeked around the corner. He saw a turian, like he expected, standing in the middle of a dead-end corridor next to an alien type he had never seen before. It looked human-proportioned, wearing a full suit and what looked like a large piece of cloth for a hood. There was a large, polarized faceplate on its helmet that prevented him from seeing their face. Leaning against the wall nearby were two figures dressed fully in armor; they looked similar in form to the first alien he met. If he remembered correctly, they were called 'Salarians'.

"They'll be here. Where's the evidence?" The turian's replied, shifting closer to the alien as he asked it.

Axton had heard enough to judge what was about to happen. It was obvious that the turian and the other alien had some kind of a deal going down. From the sound of it, someone didn't show up on time. That was never a good thing; and when bad things happen, bullets start flying.

"No way. The deal's off."

Well, that pretty much just sealed the deal on the 'this will not end well' option. The only question left was whether he should get involved. It had nothing to do with him, after all. That, and holy crap she just blew up those two salarians with a grenade alright stop thinking, time to be a big-damn hero!

"Hey, bird-face! Surprise!" he shouted as he turned the corner. Axton digistructed his go-to gun, a Vladof Renegade Assault Rifle, into his hands. Startled, both of the remaining aliens turned to face him for a second, giving him all the time he needed to line up the shot and start firing; the corridor reverberating with the sharp staccato of gunpowder igniting rapidly. Aiming for its head, it only took a few bullets impacting the turian's shield for it to drop; the next ones punching through its braincase. The turian sloughed downwards, ichor oozing from its wounds. Axton's HUD updated itself with the new data; combat statistics fueling calculations for the shield and health estimates of these new enemies. The best way to learn about your enemy was to kill them!

So, yeah! Awesome! Part one of being a hero: 'Killing the bad guys' is complete! Now for part two: 'Showing you care'.

His rifle still cradled in his hands, Axton proceeded down the short stairs into the corridor. "Are you alright, Miss?" Axton asked confidently, having totally not practiced the line beforehand.

"Damn it! I knew I couldn't trust him!" the alien shouted in frustration. She took a few seconds to calm herself down. "Sorry, thanks for that. I'm okay, but I appreciate the help."

"A pleasure. Name's Axton," he replied, extending his hand. When the alien did nothing but stare at it, he quickly retracted it. _Right. Alien._

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. But call me Tali, it's what everyone else does." The alien waved her hand; as if she had explained it before many times. She then took a more interested stance, leaning forward as if to inspect something. "Sorry, but I just have to ask: What kind of gun is that? I've never seen anything like it before."

Axton raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 'It's a gun," he said dryly. "Fires bullets, kills things."

"Bullets? Like, actual gunpowder bullets?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Incredible," the alien said in awe. "I've only seen those as antiques on the extranet."

"Woah woah woah, what do you mean, 'antique'? This thing is top-of-the-line!"

"Maybe a hundred years ago, it was. Have you been living under a rock?"

"Waitaminute, waitaminute, what exactly-"

"Are you Tali'Zorah?" came an interrupting voice. Tali shifted her gaze slightly to see the newcomer; Axton was forced to completely turn around in order to look. In front of him was man, clad in black armor with a white "N7" emblazoned on the breastplate. Flanking him was a turian as well as a gigantic alien that, while Axton had never seen before, reminded him of a skag.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?" was her reply.

"I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Military. I understand that you have some evidence that links Saren to the geth."

"I do, yes. If you can take me somewhere safe I'd be more than happy to share it with you."

"We could take her to the human embassy," the turian in the back suddenly piped up, "Your ambassador would want to see it anyway."

"So, uh, mind if I tag along?" asked Axton. Suddenly, he felt the eyes of everyone on him.

"And you are?" Commander Shepard asked.

"I'm Axton! Ten years of Dahl military experience, at your service." he said with a mock bow.

"He saved me from them a few minutes ago." Tali clarified, pointing at the corpses nearby.

"Alright, fine, we'll sort this out when we get to the embassy," Shepard decided.

"Awesome! I needed something to do today anyway," Axton said with a chuckle. He quickly digistructed his gun back into his SDU and looked up only to find everyone staring at him. Him, and more specifically, his SDU. An awkward silence hung in the air.

"What?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ambassador Udina was not in a good mood today. A human colony gets attacked - by the Geth, of all things! - the best archeological find of the century had exploded, and to top it all off, the Council's favorite pet Spectre, Saren, seemed to be involved somehow. What was supposed to be the first step in getting the idea of a Human Council seat onto the table had turned into a political shitstorm! The Systems Alliance did not need their golden-boy getting in over his head!

"You're not making my life easy, Shepard. Firefights in the Wards? An all-out assault on Chora's Den? Do you know how many-" the man in the suit had his voice trail off as he turned to look at the motley assortment that had just entered his office. Somehow Shepard had managed to triple the amount of people he had first left with. Standing alongside Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams was an almost complete set of galactic life: a Krogan, a Turian, a Quarian, and... a Human wearing some strange clothes. They only needed a Salarian and an Asari for a complete set. "What is this, Shepard? Who are all these aliens with you?" Udina waved his hand at the gaggle of uninvited guests that the Commander had brought with him.

"Well, if you'd sit tight for a second, I'd tell you that each and every one of them has something to contribute to stopping Saren." Shepard huffed in response.

_Wow, _Axton thought, _either this guy doesn't answer to Mr. Suit over there, or he really just doesn't give a damn about protocol. Either one's fine with me._ Meanwhile, Axton already hated the guy. Alright, well, maybe not exactly hated, but definitely a strong dislike. The suits back at Dahl had given off exactly the same sort of feeling that this clown did: haughtiness, resentment, and disdain at anyone other than themselves. Axton was about to pontificate this matter further when Shepard continued.

"Tali here has some evidence that links Saren to the Geth." Shepard guestured to the Quarian.

"Really?" The ambassador could just barely contain his surprise; but even so, he still kept the level, dispassionate face that the job required of him at all times. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, Miss Tali...?" he trailed off, waiting for the Quarian to supply her name.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. But please, call me Tali," she replied.

"We don't see many Quarians here. Why did you leave the flotilla?"

"I was on my Pilgrimage, my rite of passage into adulthood..."

It was at this point that Axton began to drift away from the conversation. Too much exposition for his taste. Instead, he decided to run through his skill menu for the time being. So many skills, never enough skill points. At least he had fully spec'ed the gunpowder tree before he ended up here; that one was his favorite, and it would save a lot of time from having to search for a QuickChange machine.

As he was swishing through the menus with his fingers, he became aware that the conversation seemed to have stopped. Looking away, Axton saw that everyone was staring at him in silence. Again.

"Uh... What? Do I have something on my face?" came the Commando's honest question.

"Axton," Shepard began, "what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied with a smirk, "I'm checking my HUD. What else?"

"You have a haptic interface built into your heads-up display?" Tali asked excitedly.

"Excuse me, who is this man?" Udina turned to the Shepard for his response.

"Name's Axton, buddy." Axton interjected before anyone else could say something.

"Just Axton?" Udina crossed his arms.

"Uh, yeah. That's my name."

"Shepard," Udina pinched the bridge of his nose, "why is this civilian with you?"

"Well, he-" Shepard began to say, before getting cut off.

"Hey, I ain't no civilian! Ten years of Dahl military experience right here, pal!" Axton indignantly shouted back. "I'm the most badass soldier to ever leave that army!" He gave a grin as he pointed to himself with his thumb.

"So you're a mercenary, then." Udina tilted his head back slightly, as if recoiling. "Do you even have any formal training?"

"If you count not dying, then yeah, I had some training. I was a Sergeant."

"Pardon me," came a new voice. Axton saw the Turian in the group raise his hand. "But what is Dahl?"

Axton paused for a moment. "Uh, Dahl? Oh, right, you might not know since you aliens are new after all." He took a second to clear his throat, completely missing the glare that was sent his way by the Turian. "Dahl is one of the big mega-corporations in the universe. Big gun manufacturer, but they also make other stuff too. Runs a lot of other, smaller companies under its umbrella. Like the other mega-corps, they have their own private armies to do what they best: Kill stuff, and keep their stuff from getting stolen or blown up."

Everyone else was quiet for a moment before a woman's voice broke the silence.

"With all due respect, that is the biggest pile of crap I have ever heard."

A look of surprise sat onto Axton's face, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Uh, excuse me, miss...?"

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. And there is no such thing as the Dahl corporation. The way you're describing it, should be that every human should know about, yet I never have."

"Now, wait a minute," Axton began to retort, raising his hand in a 'stop' motion and placing a smug look on his face, "I think you've got that wrong, Missy." And again, he cleared his throat while completely missing the glare being sent his way. "I did not spend ten years of my life in a military that doesn't exist. Look, I'll show you! I got one of their guns right here with the name on it and everything," and with that, Axton digistructed his Dahl Repeater into his hands.

This, of course, had a wildly different reaction to what he was expecting.

Udina, Ashley, and the other two dudes that he didn't know the names of had their eyes go so wide that they appeared to be trying to escape from their sockets. Shepard and Tali, as well as the Turian and the Krogan, had a similar, but more diminished, reaction.

"Seriously, guys," Axton asked in earnest, "what's wrong? Why are you getting so freaked out over a gun? You've got them on you yourselves!"

"M-Mr. Axton," Udina sputtered breathlessly, "how did you just do that?"

"What, this?" was his reply as he began to cycle through his four equipped weapons, each appearing and disappearing from his hands. It would have been a comical sight to see, if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.

"Yes! That! Teleporting your gun!"

"You mean digistructing, right?"

"No- wait, what? Digi... structing?" confusion was now on Udina's face.

"Alright, alright, now everybody just chill for a minute," Axton held up his hand as he holstered his gun. "Ever since I got here, things have been pretty weird for me. I mean, first off is the aliens, full stop. Never seen any before, but now I'm told that they're everywhere in the galaxy. Kinda strange, but I mean, alright, that's pretty cool too. Second thing is that some guy tells me that nobody's been outside the Milky Way. Now, maybe they let a nutcase into the police force, but I kinda have to have my doubts – Actually, no, wait, scratch that last one. I of all people should know that incompetency always finds its way into anything. But the third thing that makes me confused is something that I am really having trouble dealing with; something that I still cannot believe..."

Axton paused for dramatic emphasis. Everyone seemed to lean in slightly to catch the mysterious man's next words.

"How is it that you guys don't use bullets in your guns? I mean, seriously? Who thought that was a good idea?"

Dead silence passed.

"I... I don't..." Ashley slowly found her voice.

"You show up with fantastical technology and the thing that makes you the most confused is the fact that guns don't use bullets?" Shepard deadpanned, folding his arms over his chest.

"Pretty much." Axton nodded in agreement.

"Right." Shepard turn to face Udina, who was still dumbfounded. "Remember how I told you that there were two things you needed to see? That was the second one."

Udina blinked as he tried to recompose himself. "Ahem. Mr. Axton, I must ask, wherever did you get your technology?"

"I bought it. From the Dahl corporation. It's not that hard to understand, pal."

"But I-"

"Alright, well maybe 'bought' is the wrong word, seeing as I didn't actually pay them for it."

"Mr. Axton, please-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know! But I just don't get it! How have none of you never heard of the Dahl corporation? They're in all six galaxies!"

The silence was deafening.

"Six... galaxies?" Udina spoke softly. "Mr. Axton, you must understand this: _No one_ has left the Milky Way galaxy. Never."

A multitude of expressions passed through the Commando's face. The furrowing of his brows. Then the raising of them. The squinting of his eyes. Then the widening of them.

"So... So what, is this some sort of joke? Did I just walk into some kind of crappy sci-fi plot?"

"What are you talking about?" Shepard inquired.

"I think... I might not be in my own reality."

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

"Shepard, is he on drugs?" said Udina.

"Goddamn- No! I am not on drugs!" Axton exclaimed. "And no, you are not the first person to ask me that! Look, my friend was a Siren, she was trying to get better at-"

"What is a Siren?" Tali asked. Axton paused, his momentum defeated. He had to explain to these people what exactly he was dealing with.

"A Siren is one of six people in the universe that have some really cool superpowers. There's some weird kind of rule that says that there will always be six sirens; if one dies then somebody else becomes one. Oh, and also, they're always women, never men. Don't know why, but that's how it is. Anyway, I had come to know thr-two of them as my friends. One was named Maya, and she was somebody I had gone on a lot of adventures with. The other one was Lillith. I didn't really know her that much, 'cause I didn't see her that often, but she had more experience than Maya with her Siren power things. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. Long story short, Maya was trying to teleport something, I volunteered as the test dummy, I got sent here, then I met you guys. Alright?"

"That makes absolutely no sense." the still-unnamed light-skinned man replied.

"Which probably means that it actually is true," Shepard concluded. "The vision that the beacon gave me; it sounds like nonsense but I swear by it. I don't know how much I can trust you yet, Axton, but with the technology you have with you, I get the feeling that this may be more than coincidence. If you care for it, I'd be glad to have you with us."

"Uh, wow. Um... Alright, sure!" Axton reached out to shake Shepard's hand; this time he was acknowledged and received the proper gesture in response.

"Good. Now, we've already heard the evidence against Saren-"

"The what?"

"The audio clip that Tali played earlier. Weren't you playing attention?"

"Um," Axton scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "I guess not."

"Forget it, you'll hear it again anyway." Shepard waved his hand in dismissal. "We have our evidence. We need to show the Council what really happened!"


End file.
